


Room For Three

by DumpsterDiving101



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Maria Hill, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes and the 21st Century, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, Family Reunions, Fluff, Fugitives, Isolation, Maria Hill Feels, Meet the Family, Multi, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, POV Maria Hill, Polyamory, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protectiveness, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-10-27 23:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17776625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DumpsterDiving101/pseuds/DumpsterDiving101
Summary: Maria Hill is not Hydra, no matter what Tony Stark thinks. She does have other secrets though... such as her two lovers, Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff, who are both fugitives from the law. But they can't stay hidden forever; eventually, someone will have to find out, whether it be the federal government, thirsting for blood, or the Avengers, desperate to find their old friends.





	1. Healing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Parrannnah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parrannnah/gifts).



> This was made in association with the Women of Marvel Gift Exchange 2019! This is my gift for @Parrannnah. 
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful beta @candycanedarcy for all your wonderful work! This fic went through a lot of drafts and I'm very thankful to them for sticking through it with me. 
> 
> Now on with the story!

  Hill strained her ears, desperate to hear anything. Her captors had left about an hour before, which, based on their previous trends, meant that they’d be returning soon. Hill wasn't sure what was left for them to do. The worst torments had been the sleep deprivation, malnourishment, and uncomfortable position. Her arms were locked above her head, as they’d been for about  _ way too fucking long _ . She kept track of the time, but she didn’t dare actually think about it. If she thought about it, she would just make herself more miserable. 

 The situation was less than ideal. With her eyes covered and sense of touch restricted, she was forced to rely mostly on her senses of sound and smell. Sound was greatly disappointing; there was still no mention of her captors, no echo of steel-toed boots warning her of their presence. The floors were her ally, in this sense. If they couldn't do anything to help her, they at least didn’t want her unprepared. 

 The lack of sound meant that her sense of smell was absolutely overwhelmed. The smell of bleach crept up from the corners like shadows in her vision, and the scents of her own blood and piss were less than pleasant. 

 Still, she wasn’t sure what she  _ should  _ think about. Thinking about her situation had already gotten old, and thinking about what her situation could mean for her  _ lovers  _ was excruciating. Hill didn’t know if she was being used as bait or if her captors actually cared about the information they'd tried to torture out of her. No one was supposed to know about the arrangement worked out between her, Natasha, and Bucky— but, if working for SHIELD had taught her anything, it was that anyone could get any information. You could devote years of your life to securing data only to find that the people you were securing it from had access to it all along. Finding out about Hydra’s infestation had been brutal. There wasn’t a corner of SHIELD that went unscathed. SHIELD’s roots were founded in Naziism. 

 She could still remember the events of the Triskelion vividly. Fury’s death; the fake one, then the real one, executed at the hands of Alexander Pierce. The crashing of the helicarriers, and the subsequent escape of the Winter Soldier. SHIELD had a clear list of succession for when a director dies, and it was effective immediately. Hill became the director of SHIELD just in time to watch it collapse. 

 The cleanup efforts had been hell. The media fallout from the file dump had been hell. Getting interrogated by The Star Spangled Man With A Plan, had been hell. 

 She remembered that part vividly too. Steve, badly bruised, unshaven, circling her like a vulture. He’d just found out that his best friend, the famed Bucky Barnes, had been brainwashed and tortured by the same agency he was unknowingly working for. He didn’t use force to get answers from her, but it was clear that he would’ve if he thought she’d been hiding anything. 

 “I’m going to ask you one more time,” he said, that righteous jawline set in a scowl. “Did you know?”

 She would’ve straightened, but she couldn’t. Her back was already straight, formal, professional; parade rest for the sitting officer. She’d had conversations like this before, but she usually was the one asking, not answering. “My answer remains the same,” she said, letting her anger penetrate her voice but not her posture. “I did not know about Hydra. I believe Fury did not know about Hydra, but I can’t confirm that. Their roots were planted deep; Hydra has been a part of SHIELD much longer than I have.”

 Steve went silent, staring at a spot in the distance for a moment, probably listening to his comm. Hill strained her ears, but she couldn’t hear it; he probably had the sound on the lowest setting possible, using his super-hearing to his advantage. “Copy.” He turned to her, still looking at her distastefully. “We’re letting you go for now. But know that you will be watched. If you leave the city, you will be followed. If you leave the country, you will be followed. If you are found associating with any enemies of the nation, we will know. And we won’t be this lenient a second time around.” 

 Steve turned to leave and Hill got up, following him. She hadn't been cuffed to the table like a real interrogation, which annoyed her. Pick a damn side, Rogers. 

 “Captain,” she said, making him glance back but not stop walking, “with all due respect, if you're so sure that I'm corrupt than why don’t you just arrest me now?” 

 The elevator opened for him and he stepped in, pressing the button. Hill didn't follow him. 

 Steve gave her a sad smile. “That's the problem: we're not sure. Don’t make me regret this.”

 Which was just like him, honestly. Captain America, guilting people into being good, law-abiding citizens until the end. 

 After that, Hill had been a high-functioning wreck. She hadn’t lied to the Captain about SHIELD being corrupt long before she joined up, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t to blame. She was supposed to be the best, and she’d let her own damn organization rot. It was up to her to pick up the pieces. That meant disbanding SHIELD; that meant accepting defeat; that meant pulling the funds and creating a new and improved organization, designing it all herself to ensure that another slip up would not occur. She created SPEAR, the Specialized Personnel for Eradication And Removal. Like it or not, SHIELD was still needed. There were more enemy threats and more enhanced popping up every day, and someone had to deal with them. And that responsibility fell to her. 

 Now, SPEAR was thriving. It was far smaller than SHIELD had been, but the smaller size meant that Hill knew and trusted her entire staff. 

 Her current captors claimed to be Hydra aligned. They badgered her for information on old SHIELD data and new SPEAR projects, but she hadn’t given them anything. This was bigger than her. 

 Another coughing fit ravaged through her body, and she doubled over as much as she could with her hands above her. The coughing had started sometime in the past day, and it was horrific. Already, her throat was scratched raw. Her ribs were damaged from the beatings, making each spasm of her treacherous body sharp and painful. But she couldn’t stop. 

 The coughing must’ve attracted attention, because distantly, she became aware of footsteps coming towards her. Two pairs, one light, one heavy, both about as silent as it was possible to get in the echoey hallway. She didn’t have time to analyze them further because her body had decided it did not like the coughing, and instead made her retch. She didn’t vomit, but it was a close call. She was lucky; vomiting now would just dehydrate her further. 

 She stopped convulsing just in time to hear the footsteps come close, close enough that she could hear their breaths too. There was a swoosh of air above her, and then her hands were free. She fell forwards into a pair of awaiting arms. “Shh,  _ kotyonok _ ,” Natasha purred, holding her up with the strength of a cement wall. “We’re here. Let’s go home, shall we?”

 The blindfold was gently untangled from her hair, and Hill sighed against Natasha’s shoulder, eyes closed against the harsh light. “Took you fucking long enough,” she grumbled into the woman’s shoulder. 

 Hill became vaguely aware of a presence at her back. She forced herself to stand, taking her weight off of Natasha enough to look behind her. Bucky was there, and though he was too deep in his soldier mindset to offer her condolences, she could tell from the bitter twist in his mouth that he was upset. “Come,” he said, voice laced with a Russian accent, “They called for reinforcements.”

_ We don’t have much time,  _ he meant. Hill didn’t mind; they never had much time. 

 She was too weak to run out of the base on her own, so Bucky had her climb onto his back, wrapping her limbs around him like a koala. She ached horribly from the strain of standing for so long, but it was better than walking. “You good?” Natasha questioned, emotionless. 

 “Fine,” Hill rasped. “Give me a gun.”

 Bucky started to protest, but she pinched his ear, a familiar and easily translatable gesture. He huffed and took one from his ankle holster. He seldom used it, but she knew that it was kept in pristine condition, just like the rest of his arsenal. It would do just fine. 

 Then, finally, they took off. Clutching onto a man’s back as he ran full speed was not a fun experience, even if Hill’s ribs hadn’t been injured, but she gritted her teeth and dealt with it. The faster they ran, the faster they could leave. 

 They encountered multiple people trying to impede their progress, but they dealt with them with a quick, practiced ease. At one point, Hill even raised her gun to take out a guard running in Bucky’s blind spot. He patted her ankle in appreciation, but then Hill was hit with another round of coughing and Bucky ended up taking the gun back. It was probably for the best, what with the way Hill’s vision kept on swimming in and out of focus. 

 She never fully lost consciousness, but her awareness of her surroundings did falter, flickering like a scratched disc. When Hill came back to reality, she was on the couch in her living room. Her lovers argued in spit-fire Russian a few feet away, and the sound was familiar enough to make her chuckle painfully. 

 “ _ Masha,”  _ Bucky said, turning to her intently. “What is the extent of your injuries.”

 Hill blinked a few times at him. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get his image to focus right. “Talk later,” she eventually said, sinking further into the couch. “Sleep now.”

 And she did.

  
  


—————————

  
  


 When she awoke for real, there was another form weighing down the couch cushions. Two metal fingers were pressed against the pulse point on her neck. 

 “ _ Idti _ ,” Natasha ordered, shoving a scared looking man toward her. “ _ Ty doktor. Isprav' yeye.” _

 It took a few moments for Hill’s sleep-and-sickness addled mind to translate the Russian:  _ Go. You’re a doctor. Fix her.  _

 How sweet. Her girlfriend was threatening civilians for her. 

 Hill started coughing again, and Bucky quickly removed his fingers. He shot her his look of concern, the one that looked like a mix of predator and prey. Hill had a nightmare, once, of a doe standing in the middle of the street, about to get hit by a car, and it’s hooves planted themselves into the cement, prey becoming predator. Bucky looked like that. 

 “I’m going!” The doctor said, harried. “Already, that cough sounds bad. What were the events leading up to—”

 “It doesn’t matter,” Bucky growled, “She’s hurt. Fix her.”

 The doctor huffed. “It’s not that easy. I need to know—”

 Bucky pulled out a knife, and he stopped, mid sentence. “ _ You need to know how to keep your damn trap shut and do your job,”  _ Bucky threatened. Hill didn’t know if the doctor spoke Russian, but a threat was a threat, no matter if it was comprehensible. The doctor shut up. 

 Bucky moved away, pacing to the other side of the room to give him space. Hill coughed again, just once. Her body was balancing on the edge of exhaustion. 

 “Get her water,” the doctor suggested. He was an older man, wrinkled with a big nose and ears, a contrast to his small framed glasses. He put his hand to her forehead, then took out a stethoscope, feeling for her pulse in multiple places. She winced when he pressed the metal to her ribs, and within a moment Bucky was on him, yanking him away. “I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean to I swear I didn’t—!”

 “ _ Soldat!”  _ Natasha commanded, making Bucky let go of the man. “ _ Bros’ yego.” _

__ The doctor scurried underneath Bucky’s arms, rushing over to Hill’s bedside. Or, rather, couchside. “It seems likely that you have moderate to severe bruising on your right lower rib cage. It would be beneficial to let me take your shirt off to examine the extent of the injury.”

 Bucky prowled forwards, and the doctor winced automatically, but Bucky wasn’t aiming for him. “I’ve got it,” he growled, crouching next to Hill. “ _ Masha.  _ Can you sit?”

 Hill tried to respond verbally, but her throat was too dry. Instead, she just nodded. 

 Bucky helped her into a sitting position, then sat behind her, supporting her hunched back as her helped pull her shirt off. Hill leaned back against him as the doctor inspected her ribs. 

 He ended up declaring that they were most likely bruised, but not broken. He then went over her other injuries, which mostly consisted of smaller bruises and scrapes, and then looked over her general condition. “When was the last time she ate?” 

 Bucky and Natasha both looked to Hill. She shook her head. It had been breakfast, the morning before her capture. That was days ago. 

 The doctor looked panicked. “Drank water?” Another shake of the head. “Slept a full eight hours.” 

 Hill actually laughed at that one. Her ribs made her stop quickly enough, wincing, but it was something. 

 “Okay,” the doctor said, clearly trying to reign his panic in to give an accurate analysis. “The bruises should heal. With enough nourishment, liquids, and sleep, the rest should follow. I’d suggest at least a week of bedrest. The cough should go away on its own. Um also…” he hesitated, eyes flickering up to Bucky who, even sitting down, loomed, “... An x-ray wouldn’t hurt. Neither would a trip to the ER. Whatever caused this level of damage could have caused other… internal issues. I don’t see signs of head trauma, but that’s not the only risk. Internal bleeding—”

 “Thank you,” Natasha cut off. “You may leave now.”

 The doctor gaped. “I—”

 “The funds have been transferred to your account. Speak a word of today and you and your family will be promptly executed. Good day.”

  
  


————————

 Hill finally managed to get her hands on some water after the doctor was gone. The cool liquid soothed her blistered throat enough to speak. “You guys are assholes,” she said finally. 

 “Maybe. But we’re effective,” Natasha challenged, moving closer. She crossed her arms, giving Hill a cursory once over. “You look like shit.”

 “Thanks,” Hill spat, “I feel like shit.” 

 “We missed you,” Bucky hummed. 

 “Shut up.”

 Her lovers moved with their usual efficiency, getting her soft foods and more water. They got washcloths and scrubbed her down as she ate, wiping the sweat and grime and blood away as best as they could. Hill sincerely hoped that she didn’t get any blood on the couch. They only had the one, and they had somehow managed not to stain it at all over the past nine months. It’d be a shame to break their streak. 

 She was dressed in clean clothes— almost none of which were her own— and finally, carried into the bedroom. “I’m not a child,” she complained. 

 Natasha pushed her back against the bed, leaning close enough that their lips brushed against each other. “Shut up,” she murmured lowly, giving Hill a real but brief kiss before pulling back. 

 Bucky helped Hill get comfortable, then made the mistake of trying to move away. Hill grabbed his wrist and scolded him with a click of her tongue, pulling him closer. He took the hint and climbed in, letting Hill drape her legs over him like she liked. Natasha climbed into the other side, but stayed sitting up, pulling out her phone. “Don’t you have shit to do?” Hill asked lazily. She was willing to compromise her dignity enough to ask for one person's company, but to ask for both of her lovers’ attention was too much. She was ill, but she refused to be needy. 

 “I’m on guard duty,” Natasha said, like that was a completely reasonable explanation— like she was still there for her sake, not for Hill’s. “We both know that you’re going to try to get out of bed as soon as physically possible.”

 Hill groaned into her pillow. “I hate you both.”

 Bucky responded with a quick forehead kiss, and that was that.

  
  


————————

  
  


 The following days weren’t pleasant by any account. Moving, even just breathing, became painful. Hill spent a lot of time regaining her strength, but after three days wasted away with naps, she couldn’t do it anymore. The boredom kicked in. Unfortunately, Hill had not one, but two parole officers monitoring her every move, and if she so much as sat up without their permission, they were on her. 

 Hill laid on the bed, her shirt pushed up so that it was bunched up just underneath her breasts. She lounged there lazily, watching Bucky frown ostentatiously at her ribs. “Shouldn’t they have healed by now?”

 In the bathroom, Natasha spit toothpaste into the sink. “No, she doesn’t have a healing factor, remember? This is why we had the doctor check her out instead of doing it ourselves.”

 “Not that you two aren’t  _ highly _ qualified,” Hill snarked, letting her head lull to the side. “If I was left in your hands, you’d probably use duct tape to fix it.”

 Bucky frowned even more. “Hey. Duct tape works.”

 Hill waved her hand, like  _ see what I mean? _

__ “It still looks like it’s healing too slowly. Maybe we should’ve taken her to a hospital.”

 “Hospitals have sign in sheets and cameras,” Natasha reminded him. “If we brought her in, Stark would be able to trace her movements. He’d see that she wasn’t alone, and even if we used fake names, he’d recognize us.”

 “Fucking Stark,” Bucky grumbled. Stark wasn’t even his biggest concern; it was Steve that was after him. But they were still teamed up, and if Stark wasn’t tracking Bucky, then he was definitely tracking Hill. She knew that she was still at the top of their ‘most likely evil’ list. They hadn’t yet made the connection that she was harboring Missing Persons 1 and 2, but that didn’t mean they could get sloppy. 

 After the Triskelion, Bucky had escaped his programming and gone on the run. Steve Rogers, aka his former best friend, immediately started hunting him down, apparently unaware that Bucky ran because he didn’t want to be found. That had happened at the same time as the file dump, which exposed Natasha of her past. She ended up pulling a disappearing act. The only traces of her found anywhere were of her murders; old enemies that were now greater threats to her than ever. The murders meant that she had to leave the Avengers. Natasha would talk about them, sometimes, but never about leaving them. It couldn’t have been easy, but then, Natasha would have never done it if it was. Hill did know this: Natasha hadn’t said goodbye. Her friends could guess that she’d gone with the wind, but they had no way to know that she wasn’t actually in trouble. 

 Natasha's old friend Clint was the one who would be looking for her the most. Bucky’s old friend Steve was the one looking for him. And Hill… well, Hill and Tony had never been friends, but that was beside the point. Either way you spun it, the three of them were being pursued by three separate Avengers; talk about a power throuple. 

————————

 By the second day, Hill gave in fully. When Bucky was in the bathroom, she snuck into the kitchen to grab her laptop and bring it back to bed. She was already signed on and checking her emails when Bucky came out and rolled his eyes. 

 “You’re supposed to be resting,” he admonished. “Work can wait.”

 “I promise you, it really can’t,” Hill retorted. She was the goddamn director; her company knew how to run without her for a few days, but they still needed a leader. In that way, she had failed them. Her only reassurance was that she hadn’t betrayed them to her captors. 

 Bucky huffed, but didn’t try to take her computer from her. Instead he picked up her phone, looking over it briefly before announcing she had a text. 

 It was from Eve, which really wasn’t a surprise. Hill was already smiling when she opened it to find a picture of a nasty looking bruise on her sister’s obnoxiously muscled calf.  _ I got this one falling while free climbing,  _ the caption underneath boasted.  _ Beat that.  _

__ Hills smile only widened as she lifted her shirt and took a picture of the bruise there, now bluish green.  _ Got this one while being tortured by an enemy agency,  _ she texted back casually.  _ Check and mate.  _

_  You did not. I’m calling B.S. _

_  It’s true! You won’t believe the amount of hovering I’ve had to endure over the past few days.  _

__ Bucky pouted. “We don’t ‘hover’.”

 Hill gave him a look. “You’re hovering over my shoulder to read my texts right now.”

 “You’re still wrong,” he complained, dropping his head to rest on her shoulder. Hill scratched him under the chin and went back to her messages. Eve had just replied:

_ You’d think that they’d be calmer about this sort of thing.  _

_  You’d think so, but no. They’re both total stress cases. _

_  Haha, jokes on you. This is why I’m only dating one person, like a normal human being. _

__ Just then, Bucky snatched the phone out of Hill’s hand, sending a quick message of  _ Suck my dick.  _

__ “Hey!” Hill complained, taking the phone back. She wasn’t bothered by content of the message— Eve probably wouldn’t even think it strange— but it only felt right to scold him for taking her phone. Bucky leaned over and bit her ear in response. 

_ Ha. But why would you want me to suck your dick when you have two fugitives who could do it instead? _

_  You’re actually the worst.  _

_  <3  _

__ “That’s it,” Hill decided aloud with an air of finality, “I’m officially cutting off my family. They’re all horrible.”

 “Horrible,” Bucky agreed, tone normal but eyebrows raised in amusement. “Guess you’ll have more free time to spend with us now. What a shame.”

 “It  _ is  _ a shame,” Hill teased, shoving him. Bucky fell over dramatically, as if he’d been stabbed through the heart, and Hill snorted and went back to her work, gleefully ignoring him. 

  
  



	2. Maintainance

 “I’m fine,” Bucky insisted. “It doesn’t even bother me.”

 That was a straight up lie and they all knew it. Bucky had been scratching and picking at the metal plates on his arm for the past two days, his face pinching up in irritation. Hill and Natasha had given him his space, knowing how picky he could be about the arm— it had taken him weeks to get comfortable enough with them to even let them touch it— but they couldn’t let him ignore it forever. Bucky had a bad tendency of suffering in silence.

 So, they asked what it was. It turned out that there was a misaligned panel near the top of his metal bicep, too deeply and awkwardly placed for Bucky to be able to reach it himself. 

 “I’ll just get it for you,” Hill had said, which was immediately met with Bucky’s ‘I’m fine, I don’t even notice it’ line. 

 Natasha crossed her arms. “Don’t be a baby. It won’t even take a minute.”

 Bucky scowled at her, and Hill had to bite her tongue to focus herself to keep quiet. After spending so many years giving commands and reprimanding subordinates, she had gotten used to constantly monitoring others. But Natasha wasn’t a subordinate, no matter how much she felt like it at times. Hill would do good not to treat her like one. 

 And, of course, even if Hill  _ did  _ have the jurisdiction to give Natasha orders, she’d do good not to. Natasha wasn’t antagonizing Bucky, that was just the way she acted, the way she spoke. If Natasha was ever overly fond, that either meant she was acting or really, really relaxed. Normally, the harshness was a good sign. 

 That didn’t mean that Bucky didn’t rise to it, though. “I said I’m fine, there’s no reason to be a bitch about it.” 

 “I’m not being a bitch, I’m being reasonable, which is something you’re completely incapable of. Maria, get the maintenance kit.”

 Hill stayed where she was, watching the fight. Neither of them looked at her, both stepping closer, sizing each other like two cats in an alley. Bucky was much taller than Natasha, but Natasha still managed to make her gaze harsh and threatening, even when having to look up to meet his eyes. The space between them was magnetically charged, and Hill wondered how hard it was for Bucky to keep himself from wrapping around Natasha, pulling her close. The desire was there, in the way he chewed on his lower lip, the way his eyes darted down. And, even better— the desire was reciprocated. 

 “You don’t tell me what to do,” Bucky growled. They were close enough by now that this pretty much counted as foreplay. “I’m in charge of me. I get to decide what happens to my body.”

 “Fine,” Natasha snapped, “Then decide.”

 “ _ Masha _ . Get the maintenance kit.” Bucky said it defiantly, like it was all his idea. Natasha quirked a brow. 

 “What if I don’t want you to fix the arm? What if I want you to let it keep bothering you?”

 “It doesn’t matter. It’s my body.”

 “You’re insufferable,” Natasha insisted, pulling away. It was a compliment. 

 Before she could get far, Bucky grabbed onto her wrist and yanked her into a kiss, the kind with his hand wrapped around her skull, holding her tight and close. Hill wasn’t too big on power play, but she knew that in the right context, Natasha liked it. Natasha melted like a candle.

 In the meantime, Hill retrieved the maintenance kit and looked it over before declaring, “Let’s get started before you get too distracted.”

 Natasha pulled away immediately, still focused on her mission, but Bucky whined, slouching behind her. He begrudgingly slumped down into the recliner— the Papa Bear chair, as the girls called it, but they didn’t tell Bucky that— and inclined his head towards Hill. “Can we do the thing again? The— the distraction—”

 “Well, Natasha’s gotta make herself good for something,” Hill relented. Natasha slapped her ass fondly as she walked past. 

 Hill settled herself by Bucky’s left side, keeping all her movements casual and her expression pleasant. The goal was to fix the problem as fast as possible without freaking Bucky out. Hill’s job was primarily the former, while Natasha was doing the latter. 

 Natasha climbed onto Bucky’s lap easily, setting on his right side with her legs over Bucky’s, bent at the knees and comfortable. She, as usual, wasn’t wearing pants, but today she did sport a pair of high waisted spandex. Bucky’s flesh arm settled around her waist naturally, hooking into the spandex. 

 Hill got to work, trusting Natasha to do her job of distracting him. She didn’t disappoint. 

 “ _ Kotyonok, _ ” Natasha purred, curling herself around him a little more. “I was thinking we should go shopping again sometime soon. I’m in need of a few new pairs of underwear.”

 Bucky was still trying to watch Hill out of the corner of his eyes, but Natasha gently tilted his head more towards her. She raised her eyebrow in prompt, and Bucky exhaled. “You already have too much underwear,  _ Zaika.  _ If you get any more we’ll have to empty another drawer.”

 “You can never have too much underwear.”

 Hill had managed to open up the arms paneling and locate the problem, but when she touched a certain panel with her forceps Bucky twitched, turning to look at his arm. Natasha grabbed his chin and pulled him back, moving closer to his face to capture his attention. “I was thinking of trying a different color this time,” she continued. “Maybe white? I don’t have any white.”

 “Yeah, because white panties are a horrible idea,” Hill complained, still keeping most of her focus on her work. “They’re basically only good for decoration, not for actual use.”

 “Fine, then I’ll wear them for decoration,” Natasha retaliated, frowning. She studied Bucky’s face; he hadn’t turned to look at his arm again yet, but he wasn’t focusing on her smalltalk either. She needed a better distraction. “Maybe I’m going about this wrong,” Natasha said, her soft voice drawing Bucky in a little more. “Maybe I shouldn’t get panties for me.”

 Bucky blinked, slowly getting her meaning. The distraction was working, and Natasha upped it even more, adjusting her position to get more comfortable on his lap, not-so-subtly placing her hand over his crotch. “Maybe I should get panties for you.”

 Bucky’s breath shuddered, but he tried to hide it behind a shy smile. “Bunny, I’m not going to wear women's panties.” 

 Natasha pouted. Hill didn’t look up from her task to watch, but she knew the look. It was perfectly calibrated, a masterpiece created after years of practice seducing senators, and enemy agents, and whoever else Natasha thought she could bring down with it. Hill knew how effective it was firsthand. “Why not? Don’t you want to do this for me— this itty bitty thing?”

 “Nat,” Bucky breathed out, causing Natasha to redouble her efforts. She leaned against his side, artfully draped with her hand still over his crotch, palming subtly. 

 “They don’t even have to be lacy,” Natasha persuaded gently, her cheek mashed up against his shoulder. “They could just have little bows. Or polka dots.”

 That made Bucky laugh. It wasn’t his full laugh, just a shaky little thing, but it was a laugh regardless. Hill pulled her tools away for a moment, not wanting to mess up while he was moving. She pursed her lips, trying to hide her own smile; she didn’t mind the picture Natasha was painting for them. 

 “Yeah, sure,” Bucky said sarcastically, “put me in a spotted pair, why don’t you? We could get the whole set, panties, stockings, a garter belt, a bra.”

 “Not a bra,” Natasha said quickly. “You don’t have the boobs for it.”

 “ _ Fuck you,  _ my boobs are fine.”

 The edge of Natasha’s smile quirked up and she tilted her hand in a  _ so-so _ gesture. “Meh. I’ve seen better.”

 “Who?”

 “Steve Rogers.”

 Hill sighed. Fucking Steve. 

 Bucky rolled his eyes. “I didn’t realize that part of the Red Room procedures included getting rid of your sense of taste.”

 Natasha nodded mournfully. “It’s true. That’s why I’m with you two instead of someone better— ow!” 

 Bucky and Hill had both pinched her, Bucky on the arm and Hill on the calf. Natasha kicked at her, hitting her in the side playfully, but not without force. “ _ No _ ,” Bucky said, his voice taking more of a Russian tone to it, “You’re with us because you want to be. Because you love us.”

 “Please, tell me more of my opinions.”

 “The mouth on you,” Bucky tsked, shaking his head. 

 Natasha shook her head with his, her eyes going a little dreamy. “You should really do something about that.” 

 “I should,” Bucky agreed. Then Natasha was wrapping her arm around his neck to pull him down into a kiss. 

 Hill set her tools down, wiping her hands on a rag and sitting back. She tapped on a mechanism on the inside of the metal arm and the plates slotted back together, rippling and settling themselves back in place. Bucky flexed his metal fingers, then opened his hand in invitation. Hill smiled, shook her head, and took his hand. 

 Without breaking his kiss with Natasha, Bucky pulled Hill up onto the armrest. The armchair wasn’t big enough for three people, but they’d found a way to Tetris themselves on with no one falling off. Hill reached over and helped Bucky pull Natasha’s spandex off, already knowing how this would play out. Hill wasn’t a particularly sexual person, and Bucky was more interested in his partners’ pleasure than his own, but Natasha was very sexual. She was— well, for lack of a better term, she was constantly horny, and usually not very subtle about it. Hill and Bucky sometimes teased her about it, pretending like they were fighting over who’s turn it was this time,  _ oh no, Natasha’s horny again, should we flip a coin?  _ In all honesty, they had more sex in pairs of two than they did altogether, which was more due to their irregular schedules than anything else. But sometimes— sometimes— something happened where the three of them were together, and it was then that their teamwork became apparent. Hill teased her lovers for their secret language of subtle gestures and movements, but on times like this, she felt like she could read Bucky’s mind. They didn’t need to speak, working in tandem to achieve their mutual goal of getting Natasha off.

 With Natasha’s spandex out of the picture, Hill leaned forwards, taking her turn kissing Natasha. Natasha accepted it greedily, not minding being passed between lovers. “Bucky, fingers,” Hill ordered, breaking away for just a moment without actually moving away. “Natasha, knees.”

 “Where do you want me to put them?” Natasha murmured lowly against Hill’s ear. 

 “Over my shoulders,” she instructed simply. Natasha pulled back, giving her an approving look, and then Bucky’s hands were on her thighs, lifting her legs into positions. Natasha, being the dancer that she was, had no problem lifting her legs over Hill’s shoulders, her knees on either side of Hill’s neck and her calves dangling. Hill leaned forwards and tilted her head up, catching her in another kiss. She wrapped her arms around Natasha’s back to help support her, and found one of Bucky’s arms doing the same. The other one dipped down in between Natasha’s legs, moving her panties to the side and—

 Natasha exhaled sharply. She pulled away just an inch, her mouth open in an O and her eyes half-lidded, almost closed. 

 “Did I say you could do that?” Hill whispered, and Natasha came back to herself just enough to resume the kiss. 

 Hill could feel Bucky’s motions reverberate through Natasha. He wasn’t particularly rough, but he had a sort of subtle aggression to him, and while his movements started out teasing, they escalated quickly. The Winter Soldier, after all, was known for his efficiency. 

 When Natasha was close, Hill could feel her thighs shaking, her breath getting more frantic. Hill pulled back, leaning their foreheads together as Natasha was assaulted with stimulation. Then she gasped, back arching, and Bucky quickly removed his hand, fixing her panties and helping her into a more comfortable position. Her knees came off of Hill’s shoulders and Hill gave a quick series of orders—  _ bend her knees, cradle her head, scoot over—  _ that Bucky followed with military precision. They managed to adjust her until Natasha’s head was rested on Hill’s stomach, her body mostly laying on top of Bucky. 

 “We should watch tv or something,” Bucky suggested, stroking a hand down Natasha’s thigh affectionately. “She’s going to be like this for a while.”

 Hill shook her head fondly. “Fine, but you have to choose. And no more boring history shows, got it?”

 “Yes ma’am,” Bucky replied before promptly choosing  _ Animal Planet.  _

__ Hill scoffed, but didn’t move to do anything about it. “Oh great, a boring documentary.”

 “You said no boring  _ history _ show,” Bucky defended cheekily. “And I listened, because I’m a perfect boyfriend.”

 “Well, he’s not wrong,” Natasha said quietly from their laps.

 “If we’re going to watch a full episode though, let’s move to the couch,” Bucky suggested. “I don’t think my armchair was made for this.”

 That was valid. Hill’s leg was dangling off the armrest, and despite their advanced Tetris skills, none of them were exactly comfortable. Hill got up first, letting Bucky pick Nat up and bring her to the couch. Hill grabbed a blanket and followed. She could complain all she wanted, but she actually didn’t mind  _ Animal Planet,  _ and she definitely didn’t mind being close to her lovers. She showed affection differently than most people, but Natasha and Bucky understood her. She never had to explain herself, never had to explain that she wasn’t serious, or that she didn’t mean to be rude, that’s just how she was. They just knew. They always knew.


	3. Reunion

Hill was a woman of routine. Bucky and Natasha weren’t necessarily, but they made it work. They taught Hill spontaneity, and Hill taught them normality. 

 Most nights they slept together in their bed. When Hill bought her apartment, she hadn’t planned to be hosting two other adults, but they made it work. Sometimes Bucky struggled with sleep, or couldn’t stand being so close to other people, so he slept out on the couch. He had a few things like that, where he still wasn’t fully healed from being the Winter Soldier. One of which was Steve Rogers. 

 Steve was still out there, looking for him, but Bucky was doing everything in his power to make it so Steve never found him. He set up false leads. He monitored Steve’s progress. He didn’t go on missions that might cause them to cross paths. 

 Hill hoped, for Steve’s sake, that they didn’t cross paths. Bucky wasn’t necessarily angry at him, but he was desperate, and desperation was often more dangerous than anger. 

 Bucky and Natasha had self-appointed missions a few times a week. Usually they took less than a day, but when they didn’t they made sure to notify Maria beforehand. There were a few nights when they went on a mission together and didn’t come back in the allotted time, leaving Maria alone in the dark apartment. When she realized she sighed, checked the clock again, and pulled out her laptop. She wouldn’t be able to sleep, so she might as well work. 

 But they always came back. She had to trust that they would always come back. 

 Hill’s schedule was much more normal. She left for work at the same time every morning and got back at the same time every night. Her weekends were optional, but she usually worked through them anyways. 

 It was a Saturday, and Hill had slept in at Natasha’s request. She woke up automatically at six every morning, but this time she made herself stay in bed, eventually falling back asleep. She ended up waking up again at seven thirty, which was probably still too early, so she stayed in bed for another hour working. Her lovers were already awake, and she could hear them talking in quiet Russian in the living area. She smiled fondly at the door, imagining them on the other side. Sometimes she still had trouble remembering that this was real, this was her life. She was Maria Hill, isolationist extraordinaire, but she wasn’t alone. 

 Her phone buzzed softly beside her, reminding her even more that she wasn’t alone. It was a text from Eve,  _ surprise surprise.  _ Hill had been close with her as a kid, but they’d drifted apart when she moved out. Sometime between then and now she started making an effort, and they reconnected. Now they’re probably friends, if it’s possible to be friends with your sister. 

 Today’s text consists of a picture of the bottom of someone’s foot and a half dozen messages. The foot was pretty nasty looking, with overly-tough skin and scars. 

_  #Calluses4Days _

_  Are you coming home for Dad’s birthday?  _

_  The whole family will be there  _

__

__ Hill considered, then responded.  _ What about Aunt Martha?  _

_  Oh, she’ll be there.  _

_  She’s making the cake  _

_  I’m there,  _ Hill replied immediately. Aunt Martha used to be a baker, but ever since retiring she only cooks for fun. It took a lot to bribe her to make you something, but it was well worth it. She was the type of person who believed that Rum was a necessary ingredient in cake. 

 She was an absolute delight. 

_ Cool. When are you coming in?  _ Eve asked. 

_ Haven’t made the plans yet. I’ll let you know.  _

_  His birthday is Saturday.  _

_  Yeah, yeah, you’re the favorite daughter, shove it in my face why don’t you. I have powerful friends. I’ll be there.  _

__ She could almost see Eve rolling her eyes.  _ I swear, if you show up being carried by Iron Man I’ll scream.  _

_  We’ll see.  _

  
  


__ ————————

  
  


 If Hill was going to go out of town for a few days, she’d have to make sure she was caught up on her work load. By going to work on Saturday, she wasn’t proving that she was a workaholic, just that she was dedicated. Right? 

 Hill showered and dressed, making sure she was completely ready before leaving the bedroom. She grabbed a breakfast burrito from the fridge and swung by the couch, where Natasha and Bucky were semi-tangled together. Natasha wasn’t wearing pants— she never did if she could avoid it— and Bucky, for once, wasn’t either. He wore his favorite red sweater and, ridiculously enough, a pair of briefs. 

 Hill leaned down and quickly pecked Natasha on the lips. She made sure to give Bucky a warning, putting her hand on his neck first and then moving to kiss his cheek, but he moved just in time to catch her on the lips. Hill had found that the best strategy with Bucky and physical affection was to proceed with content. Sometimes he was okay with it, and sometimes he wasn’t. Today, apparently, he was. 

 Hill pulled back, but Bucky held a hand over hers, keeping it in place on his neck. “I’m headed out,” Hill announced, well aware that she had both of their attention directly on her. “Work. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

 Bucky grunted in annoyance, but otherwise didn’t react. “M’kay,” Natasha said, simple enough. “I was thinking of making dinner tonight. Maybe something with that egg sauce?”

 “Sounds good,” Hill agreed, rubbing little circles into Bucky’s neck where her hand remained. “Also, I can’t help but notice that you got Bucky panties. Nice job.”

 She gestured at the briefs, and Natasha smiled thinly. “I do my best to make the world a better place.”

 “They’re not panties,” Bucky complained. “They’re for men.”

 “Okay sweetie, whatever you say.”

 Bucky’s frown intensified. “You’re so mean. They really are.”

 “I know that they are. But just in case, you got others, right? I might want to borrow a pair on laundry day.” 

 Bucky shoved her hand away, scowling intensely at the tv. They were watching  _ Animal Planet  _ again, and Hill paused for a few moments to watch two jellyfish mate. “Hmm. So that’s how it works.”

 Natasha stayed impassive. “So they say.”

 “Hmm. Okay, I’m headed out now. Be back later.”

 Her lovers both mumbled in assent, and Hill took that as her cue to go.

  
  


————————

  
  


 Hill had hoped to borrow a quinjet for the trip, but they were all already scheduled for Friday. “Is it for an emergency?” Hope Van Dyne asked, looking up from her screen. 

 “No,” Hill mused. “It’s for a family thing. I guess I can’t go.”

 Hope scoffed. “Your family doesn’t live that far away. I’ll get you train tickets. Friday, right?”

 Hill nodded. If the party was on Saturday, she could arrive Friday, celebrate Saturday, and leave the next morning. Maybe she could arrive early Saturday morning, so then she wouldn’t have to be there for long, but that might be a little too obvious. 

  
  


————————

  
  


 Natasha and Bucky took the news a little worse than expected. 

 “You’re going on a mission?” Bucky asked. “Why?”

 “That’s a stupid question,” Hill responded, digging into her noodles. Natasha had, as promised, made dinner. They ate at the couch, and Hill sat relaxed against the armrest with Natasha’s thighs in her lap. Natasha was like a cat in the way that she didn’t ask for attention, but she did make sure you couldn’t pay attention to anything else. 

 Natasha hummed against her spoon. “Are you asking for backup?”

 “Nope.”

 Bucky made an upset noise. “No, we’re going to be there. The last time you went on a mission—”

 “The last time I went on a mission, I was ambushed,” Hill snapped, maybe a bit too harshly. “It won’t happen again.”

 “But—”

 “It’s not a normal mission,” Hill continued, realizing that her choice of wording was poor. “It just feels like one. It’s my dad’s birthday this weekend; I’m going home for it. It’ll be less than 48 hours before I come back.”

 If she’d wanted to bring the mood of the room down, she’d certainly succeeded. Natasha and Bucky didn’t have any family. The closest people they had to family were all Avengers, and they weren’t exactly on speaking terms with them. 

 “So you don’t want backup,” Natasha clarified, “Because you don’t want them to know about us.”

 Maria gave her an annoyed look. “Right. Because you’re both wanted by the Federal Government.” 

 Bucky huffed. “Fine. But you’re texting us updates.”

 “You don’t have a phone.”

 “I’ll acquire one,” he promised. He looked a little uncomfortable when he asked, “How’s it going to be seeing them again?”

 Maria shrugged. “Fine. I still talk to Eve, and it’s not like I ignore anyone else. I just don’t… make a big effort.”

 “Probably an understatement,” Natasha said agreeably. “You sure it’ll be fine?”

 “Yeah. It’s just another mission, like I said. I just have to go and get it over with.”

 Natasha didn’t seem like a big fan of that idea, but she didn’t argue.

  
  


————————

  
  


 The house had changed. It had been at least… three, four years?... since she’d last visited her family, so it made sense, but still. The house had changed. 

 Hill walked along the cobblestone path up to the front door. The path was new. Up by the front door, most of the decorations— the lawn chairs, the wind chimes, the colorful stones— were new. There was still the same ceramic gnome standing sentry at the door’s side. Hill knew that if she lifted the hat up, the spare key would be inside. She considered for a moment, taking the key and stashing it, but that was silly. She wasn’t an agent or an operative or even a director here. 

 Hill opened the door herself, not bothering to knock. If she knocked they’d probably start babbling to her about how it was still her home, how she could come by anytime, and—

 “Honey, was that the door?” 

 “Maria!” A familiar voice called, and then a blonde figure darted down the stairs right into Hill’s arms, accepting the hug that hadn’t been offered. 

 Hill let out out a surprised “Oof,” then set her stuff down to hug Eve back. “Hey. How’s—”

 “Maria!” A voice called out, and Hill winced. Her mom ran in, wobbling a little. Her edges were more rounded than Hill’d remembered, her skin a little more leathered, but her hair was still the thinning blonde crimps that Hill remembered. There wasn’t much gray, so she must have had it recently re-dyed. “Mariaaaaaa, we’ve been so worried and you never call—”

 Eve stepped aside so Hill’s mom could squish her in a bear hug, so intense it was almost aggressive. Then she was stepping back, her already big features growing huge with disbelief as she proclaimed “We saw it on the news! The… the Trintilian, the collapse! We were so worried, why didn’t you call? I don’t think I even have your phone number, do you realize how wrong that is? A mother should always have her daughter’s phone number, always, and especially if her daughter is working in buildings that can fall to the ground at any time—”

 “Is that Maria?” A new voice boomed. Hill thankfully moved away from her mom, striding over to pull her dad into a warm hug. He was a little slow to return it, his body stiff and his coordination off without his cane to lean on, but he hugged back nonetheless. “Don’t tell me,” he asked as he pulled back, eyes sparkling, “You’re taller.”

 Hill let out a little laugh. “Am I taller or are you shorter?”

 He scoffed. He was of the generation of goose hunters and ice-fishers, the Men of the World that would never grow old. “You’re taller, I know. I’m the same height as I always was.”

 That was certainly _ not _ true, but Hill didn’t have time to respond before her mom was fussing over her again, asking more questions about the Triskelion. Hill sent Eve a quick  _ Yikes  _ look before catching her mother’s fluttering hands and holding them still. “Mom. I was the Deputy  _ Director _ of SHIELD, so when it fell—”

 “You were on one of the top floors!” Her mom filled in for her. “Oh, my  _ baby—!” _

__ “No,” Hill corrected, trying not to let her annoyance shine through. “No, I was… I was  _ in charge  _ of it. When the building fell, I had things to do, people to take care of. I was the one  _ responsible  _ for handling everything, I couldn’t take a break to sleep, much less make a phone call.”

 Her mom pursed her lips. “Yes, you could’ve. We were worried  _ sick—” _

__ “Mom, I think the cupcakes are done!” Eve exclaimed brightly, pulling their mom away before she could chew Hill out even more. “Come on, we can show Maria the  _ right  _ way to frost them.” 

 That was a good enough distraction, and they all crowded into the kitchen, the talk of the Triskelion officially over with, for now at least. Hopefully for good.

  
  


——————————

  
  


 More family arrived that night. Hill’s cousin Adam came over with his wife Hannah and their four kids, as well as an uncle and a few friends of the family. Hill didn’t understand why they would come over when she’d be at the party the next day, but her extended family had always felt extremely inefficient to her. Eve’s boyfriend Harrison was going to come over, but he was called out on a last minute work trip. 

 “He’ll be coming for Christmas, though,” Eve promised. Even as she talked, Hill couldn’t help staring at her features. She looked so much like their mom, just younger. She had the same tight blonde curls, though hers were genuine in color, and they had the same eyes, the same mouths. Eve was healthier too, but with her sweatshirt and jeans on you couldn’t tell except by looking at her glowing face.  “I was thinking we should dance, maybe something fun and festive?”

 Hill blinked. “Now?”

 “No silly, at Christmas, when Harrison is there! We’ve been kinda messing around, but we’re getting pretty good at the ones with only a few steps, and his turns are improving.” 

 Hill blinked a few more times, trying to focus in. There was something wrong with that sentence, something… 

 “Christmas?”

 Eve looked a little embarrassed. “Um, yeah, I was just… I was thinking you’d come back for Christmas. You know, since you…”

 “I was busy,” Hill defended, feeling a wave of guilt crash over her as Eve gave her that pitying look again. “I— SHIELD had just collapsed, I was busy.”

 “And… the year before that?”

_ What?  _ “I… that was when the Mandarin stuff happened. The President was kidnapped, we thought there was going to be a repeat of 9/11, I—”

 The pitying look increased tenfold. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain it to me,” Eve said gently, “I was just thinking that, since SPEAR is going so well, you might be able to… take some time off and come up for a weekend or something. Whatever you’re comfortable with. It’d just… it’d make mom really happy, obviously, and I—”

 “I’ll see what I can do,” Hill said, feeling her posture shift until she was the Director of SPEAR once more. “I will… look into it.”

 Eve was still looking at her. “Okay?”

 “Okay. Your boyfriend, your… Harrison. What’s he like?”

 Eve slumped into herself a little, realizing that that part of the conversation was over. “Well, he’s… he’s basically the best thing that ever happened to me, and…”

 Hill let her posture and face soften a little, listening to her sister’s story about her love life. Eve always loved quick and hard, falling for someone in a matter of days, trusting them in a matter of minutes. She’d had many serious relationships, yet as she spoke, she made it sound like  _ this one  _ was different,  _ this time  _ she knew. Hearing her reminisce made Hill think about her own lovers, waiting at home. She wondered what they were doing. Probably watching more  _ Animal Planet,  _ or some of Bucky’s other assortment of documentaries, or maybe one of Natasha’s sitcoms. Natasha liked the ones with the laugh tracks in the background. She said it was something about knowing when the joke is; turning off her spy brain and not having to look for the humor, the clue, the hidden piece. The show told you when to laugh so you didn’t have to decide for yourself. 

 Not that Natasha ever laughed along with the tracks. She mostly just stared at the screen in concentration, a little crease appearing between her eyebrows. 

 Maybe they’d been watching tv. Maybe they’d be doing something else, going through data or making calculations. Maybe they were reading, curled on the couch together. Maybe they were in bed. Maybe they were doing things in bed. 

 Hill made a mental note to text them later that night, asking for pictures. If they did anything together, and Hill was stuck here instead of there, then she at least deserved the photo evidence. 

  
  


—————————

  
  


 The party the next day was better because people were paying more attention to Hill’s dad than Hill, which she sincerely appreciated. 

 She’d managed to do some texting with Bucky and Natasha, and had indeed gotten some photos. They had, in fact, watched both  _ Animal Planet  _ and  _ Seinfeld.  _ They were taking a lazy weekend off, and Hill couldn’t be happier for them. 

 The morning was hectic with preparations, and then the afternoon was crazy with greeting everyone and answering the same questions  _ (“No, I’m still single; no, I don’t want to be set up”)  _ and hosting the party. Hill and Eve tag teamed, making sure that all the trash was taken care of and that the appetizer dishes never ran out. Kids ran around, older people sat in circles of lawn chairs and chatted, and Hill’s dad basked in the glow of attention. 

 At one point, Eve asked Hill to go around the house to get more ice and Hill trekked over, letting her face relax and trying to regain control of her expression. She was pretty sure she’d been scowling, which wasn’t her fault, but wouldn’t go over great with the guests. She tried for a pleasant smile and turned the corner. 

  
 Hill stopped in her tracks, her smile fading instantly. She felt her muscles clench, her body preparing to fight even though she knew she wouldn't. She wouldn't fight because she wouldn't win. No, she'd have to get out of this situation another way.    
  
 The man stood at least half a foot taller than her. He was broad shouldered with a narrow waist, his shirt so tight she could see every curve and contour of his well muscled chest. Natasha was right; Steve does have good tits.    
  
 "What are you doing here?" Hill asked, keeping her voice low so no one would hear.    
  
 He stepped forward, body rigid with righteous fury. "I could ask the same about you."    
  
 "This is private property Rogers," Hill chastised.    
  
 He set his jaw, looking about ready to snarl. "We told you we would keep tabs on you. Whenever you left the state, whenever you left the country. Well, we're not in New York anymore, and it just so happens that there's a Hydra base not thirty miles from here."    
  
 Hill raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms and leaning back to look his in the eyes. "Is that all?"    
  
 That just made him angrier. "A Hydra base that The Winter Soldier was recently caught on camera invading. Hill, if you know something--"    
  
 "Rogers," Hill snapped, "For the last time, I am not Hydra. I am not an enemy of the state. I work for SPEAR, and that's it. If I came here to go to that Hydra base, then I'd be there, wouldn't I? If I came here to go to that Hydra base, then what am I doing here in the goddamn suburbs?"    
  
 "This isn't about you." Steve stepped forwards, his huge legs covering at least a meter in one stride. He grabbed at her wrist but Hill twisted away, taking another step back. He grabbed again, this time catching, his grip bruising. Hill let him keep it there, knowing that anything she could do to get away would cause a commotion. "This isn't about you," Steve repeated, "This is about Bucky. I'm worried about him; I need to find him. I’m pretty sure Hydra doesn't have him, but that intel's shit if I don't know he's okay. If you know anything-- anything at all-- then now's the time to tell me."    
  
 Oh, what Hill could tell him. Hill could tell him about Bucky's metal arm, the inner mechanisms. She could tell him about his breakfast preferences, his sleep schedule, his hair routine. She could tell Steve what Bucky was like in bed, what he looked like cuddling with Nat on the couch. Hell, she could literally tell him the exact type of underwear Bucky was wearing right at that second.    
  
 She could also tell Steve to stop looking. She could tell Steve just how much Bucky didn't want to be found.    
  
 "I don't know where he is," she said, stepping forward to match Steve's intimidation with some of her own. "SPEAR has been trying to find him, same as you." Technically true. "But I can tell you one thing; from what we've found, from what little, minuscule evidence we've acquired, the possibility that he's under someone else's control is highly unlikely. He'll find you when he's ready."    
  
 Steve narrowed his eyes, like a puzzle piece had finally clicked into place for him. He didn't have the chance to say anything, though, because then Eve was turning the corner, saying "Maria, we're ready to-- oh! Oh my--" she glanced around the corner, checking to make sure no one else was coming, then hurried forward, shaking Steve's hand even though he'd never offered it. "Hi, I'm Eve, I'm Maria's sister. You must be here for..." She probably was thinking that it had something to do with Bucky, but apparently remembering that the Bucky/Nat thing was a big fat secret, she turned to Hill, looking to her for advice.    
  
 Hill smiled, not even trying to make it look real. "He's actually just leaving. Sorry Steve, but there's no extra room for another person at  _ my dad's birthday party _ . If you need to talk again, call my office. They might even give a shit."

  
  


———————————

  
  


 Hill couldn’t help being off for the rest of the day, Steve’s words, his expression still ringing in her mind. What did it mean? What did any of it mean? 

 She helped with clean up, but declined when they invited her to game night. She had too much thinking to do, and besides, she had emails. She may not be able to go to work, but she sure as hell could still keep on top of things.

 Her dad ended up finding her on the porch swing, typing away on her laptop. She knew from experience that when the house was too loud, the porch swing was the best place to sit outside that still had internet access. 

 She listened to her father’s footsteps as he approached, the uneven walking pattern of a man with a cane. She didn’t look up from her computer, not even when he sat next to her. “What a beautiful night,” he commented simply. He did not get up. 

 Hill bit her lip, and quickly powered down her computer. She closed the screen and looked ahead, trying to see what he did. The night wasn’t anything in particular, it was just… a night. Was there something she was missing, or did her dad just say it for something to say to his estranged daughter? 

 “It is,” she agreed finally, because she’d probably never know and it didn’t matter anyways. “Did you win?” 

 “Hmm?” He asked, then must have realized she was talking about game night and hummed, “Oh, no. Your mother and sister tied. You know them.”

 “Competitive to a fault,” Hill agreed. She was too, just… not about the little things. The big things she would fight tooth and nail for, but the little things… what did game night matter in the grand scheme of life? 

 “I wanted to talk to you,” her father continued, getting to the point. Hill looked at him, watching him. He was older now, aging just as visibly as her mother. Of course he was; they were aging  _ together.  _ “It’s about… well, it’s about the phone situation. I understand that life happens sometimes, so whatever it is, I promise I’ll understand, I just… why did you change numbers?”

 Hill winced. Of course that’s what it seemed like to them. The daughter that leaves the nest as early as possible; the daughter that stops going to family events and holidays; the daughter who changes her phone number just to spite her parents. “It wasn’t because of you,” Hill said, knowing she had to make that clear first. 

 She didn’t know how to explain the rest. She’d been appointed Deputy Director of SHIELD and had switched out phones every few months. It was a safety thing, a precaution that she didn’t mind because she didn’t have many important numbers to switch over. She’d saved her parents’ numbers the first few times, but then… it had seemed pointless. She didn’t talk to them anyways. She was a part of the family, but not a solid part, not part of the foundation. It was better to just get it over with. 

 “Eve gives us updates, sometimes,” her dad said mildly, still staring out at the night sky. “She never tells us much, though. I wish she would. I wish… I wish  _ you _ would.”

 Hill let out a painful chuckle. She could feel tears collecting, but she knew they weren’t visible. They never were. She wasn’t the type of person to cry in front of others… or alone, for that fact. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

 Her dad scoffed, a challenge. “Oh yeah? Try me.”

 Hill gave him a considering look. He was her father, and she knew better than to share too much, but… on the other hand, he was also  _ Eve’s  _ father. She hadn’t gotten her ability to keep secrets from their mom, that’s for sure. 

 “I founded a new company,” Hill found herself saying. “Like SHIELD, but different. I, uh, moved.” What else was there to say? 

 “Any new relationships?”

 Hill snorted, ducking her head. She knew she was being too obvious with her body language, but it was hard not to be, sitting on the porch with her dad, staring at the night sky that was supposedly so beautiful. “Yeah,” she answered, unsure what else to say. 

 Her dad waited, then prompted, “Boy or girl?”

 “Ah, jeez, you knew about that?”

 Her dad’s eyes shimmered. “You’d be amazed about the things you thought you hid living under my roof. So, you’re dating a girl. What’s her name?”

 “Natalia,” Hill answered after a moment. It was close enough. “And, uh, that’s not all. I’m also dating a guy.”

 Her dad had to stop for a few moments longer to take that in. When he looked at her, it was with the expression of someone trying to hide their disapproval. “You’re being unfaithful?”

 Hill coughed. “Um, nope. We’re sort of all… dating… each other. The three of us. It’s not that different from a normal relationship, not actually that weird. We didn’t go looking for it, it just sorta… happened.”

 “Huh.” 

 Hill watched anxiously, waiting for a sigh of contempt or disgust or  _ something.  _ But all her father gave her was curiosity. “And his name?”

 She hesitated, but the public didn’t know about James Buchanan Barnes, only the Winter Soldier. “Bucky.”

 “That’s a funny name.” 

 “He’s a funny guy,” Hill said, surprising herself with how true it was. “He makes these faces sometimes, where he scrunches up his nose? It’s usually when Nat or I say something weird to get a rise out of him.” She almost launched into the story about the briefs, but no way in hell was she going to get into that with her dad. 

 “He sounds nice,” her dad decided finally. “They both do. And you’re happy?”

 “I am,” she replied immediately. She didn’t have to think about that. “Really, really happy. They’re both just… I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

 They sat in silence for a few minutes, both processing the conversation. Hill wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d sat down and actually talked with her dad. Too long, maybe.

 Finally, he sighed and stood with effort. “Alright. I’d better be headed to bed now. We’ll throw you a little send off party in the morning. Do you still like Blueberry Buckle?”

 Hill didn’t know; she hadn’t had it in so long. “Sure, dad.” 

 “Okay. I’m going to go to bed then.”

 “Okay. G’night, dad.”

 “Goodnight, Sweetie.”  

 He took a few steps and then Hill added another “I’ll see you in the morning,” just to try and finish the interaction. He turned his head, smiled, and kept walking.

  
  
  


—————————

  
  


 Hill still liked Blueberry Buckle. 

  
  


—————————

  
  


 Natasha and Bucky were on the couch when she got home, like they’d never left. Bucky got up to greet Hill, but Natasha just grabbed her by her shirt collar and pulled her down into a kiss, not complaining even when Hill nearly squished her. “Good to have you back,” she murmured, and Hill sighed wistfully. 

  
  


—————————

  
  


 The next morning, they all woke up at about the same time. Hill decided that she could stand to get coffee before showering for once, and after pulling on her dressing robe, followed Bucky out into the living area. 

 Except, Bucky hadn’t made it more than a few feet past the door. He was standing in frozen horror, staring at the couch. Steve Rogers stared back at him.

 “Hey, Buck,” he said casually, like he’d just decided to drop by. His eyes darted to Hill and narrowed. “Director.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last two chapters will be posted this weekend :) The best way to show appreciation is to comment!


	4. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! Now, if you read the first three chapters in early 2019, I would highly recommend rereading at least the last chapter so you’re all caught up. This is a direct continuation of the last chapter. With that said, I’m really excited to finish this story, and I hope you enjoy!

  They were all stuck, frozen in place by each other’s presence. Hill noted Steve looking the two of them up and down, obviously coming to a conclusion about the state of their undress, when Natasha breezed past them with a “Morning, Steve. Do you still not drink coffee? I know the caffeine doesn’t do much for you, but really it’s the thought that counts.”

  Steve frowned at her. His eyes darted back and forth between the three of them, like he was trying to figure out who was actually dating who. 

  As if sensing his gaze, Bucky out his arm around Hill’s shoulders, pulling her to his side possessively. Hill adjusted her robe and leaned against him, raising an eyebrow at Steve, daring him to make another assumption. 

  “So, you two—”

  Natasha strode back over, giving Hill and Bucky each a cup of coffee and a peck on the lips. She got a little distracted with Bucky, but then again, it was probably for show. It may also be important to note that she was still just in a tshirt and panties, a pretty dark green pair from last night. To Steve’s credit, he didn’t look at her like she was a piece of meat— more like she was a family member he’d caught in a debauched state. 

  Natasha tucked in against Hill, her back to Hill’s front, their arms wrapping around each other naturally. Hill leaned down and gave her an extra kiss on the head. “You only got two cups of coffee?”

  “I thought I’d steal some from you.”

  “Mmm. Over my cold, dead body.”

  “That was the plan.”

  Hill chuckled, hugging her a little tighter. 

  Steve blinked at them. “Natasha, you’re alive?”

  Natasha didn’t look surprised. She looked up at Steve with a challenging smile. “So they say.”

  “I— Clint’s been looking for you. He thinks—”

  “I know what he thinks,” Natasha said before he could finish. “And he’s going to keep thinking that, because you’re going to keep your mouth shut.”

  Steve opened his mouth, trying to say something, but the words wouldn’t form. “I— you— what would I even tell anyone? That I saw you two— you three— and you’re all… together? Is that what this is? Or am I reading this wrong?”

  “I don’t know, Steve,” Hill challenged. “Are you?”

  “I… Bucky.” Steve focused in on him, his face suddenly going soft and pleading. “You’re— I was worried. But you’re okay. Unless… blink twice if you’re here against your will.”

  “Oh my God, Steve.”

  “You obnoxious—”

  Bucky didn’t say anything, and he didn’t blink. He did glare, however. 

  “What are you doing in my house?” He grumbled finally, low and menacing. 

  Steve seemed at a loss for words. “I… was looking for you, you know. Trying to find you. Do you— what do you remember? Anything?”

  “None of your goddamn business,” Bucky snapped, stepped forwards. Steve winced, but didn’t seem worried otherwise. 

  “Brooklyn?” Steve pleased. “Do you… do you remember Brooklyn?”

  “Get out.”

  Hill and Natasha exchanged a look. Now that Steve knew about them, they didn’t want him leaving on bad terms. Not to mention that Steve had been such a problem for Bucky in the past few months. They couldn’t just… let him go.

  “I’ll make breakfast,” Natasha decided. “Maria, help me?”

  Bucky looked over at her, eyes big. “No. Wait til he leaves—”

  “He’ll leave,” Hill promised. “But since he’s here, you two should sit down. Then we’ll eat breakfast, and then we’ll show him the door. I’m sure Steve will  _ never _ make the mistake of breaking into our home again.” 

  “But only if we talk,” Steve agreed. He gave Bucky that longing, puppy dog look. 

  Bucky scowled at Natasha and Hill. “That’s not fair. You formed an alliance against me.”

  “Life’s not fair,  _ kotyonok,” _ Natasha purred. 

  Hill and Natasha ducked into the kitchen then, just barely abandoning Bucky to the wolves. As soon as they were out of sight though, Hill lingered by the doorway, trying to hear. 

_ "I can't believe this. You've been here the whole time? Why didn't you--" _

__ "Maria, I am ashamed of you," Natasha chided, playful. She had pulled a few items from the refrigerator, and had a strawberry in hand. "Spying on them like that. I expected better."

  Hill got distracted for a moment watching Natasha's red lips close around the strawberry. The image was practically lewd, and Natasha took her time, apparently knowing the effect she was having. "I'm collecting intelligence," Hill defended, making herself meet Natasha's eyes. "Isn't that what you would do?"

  " _ No, _ " Natasha said emphatically. She took a purposeful step forward, giving Hill a knowing look. "I would be using my time more efficiently."

  "Oh? Doing things like what?" 

  Natasha raised an eyebrow. "I think you know." 

  "Steve is in the other room, he'll hear--"

  "Not if we're quiet," Natasha suggested impishly. She stopped where she was, still too far away, and grabbed the hem of her tshirt, pulling it up halfway before stopping. "Or do you think we'd be better off cooking for those two men?" 

  Hill snorted. "I think you'd be better off taking your shirt off." 

  Natasha purred, and moved to obey. She stopped when the shirt was right below her boobs, keeping them covered. "I don't know if I can do this by myself." 

  Hill took the bait, stepping forwards and pulling the shirt up enough to expose Natasha’s boobs. Nat wasn’t wearing a bra underneath— she avoided them whenever possible— so they gave a light bounce when exposed. “Hold this for me?” Hill requested, tucking the edge of the shirt into Natasha’s mouth. 

  Natasha bit down, making a pleased noise. Hill moved closer, pushing her against the wall and pressing her lips to Natasha’s. Natasha nudged her foot, annoyed that she couldn’t kiss back without letting go of the shirt.

  There was a loud coughing noise, and they turned their heads just in time to see Bucky round the corner. Natasha smirked at him for a moment, angling her head seductively before dropping her shirt, right before Steve rounded the corner. Steve looked between them, then narrowed his eyes, clearly understanding at least some of what was going on, but Bucky just grunted. “See. I told you they weren’t going to make us breakfast.”

  “I got food out,” Natasha said, as if that were a worthy contribution. 

  Bucky pattered behind the counter, getting things out, lighting the stove and turning on the coffee maker in a few swift moves. “All of you, sit. I’ll make something fast.”

  Hill gave Bucky a cursory look. He seemed more tense than he might have been if it was just them, but he didn’t seem overly uncomfortable. More than likely, he just wanted something to do with his hands.

  “You sit,” Natasha said, nudging Hill’s ankle again. “I’ll help  _ Kotyonok. _ ”

  Hill followed instructions, going to the table to sit on the bench across from Steve. “Captain. It’s been a while.”

  “Hardly long enough,” Steve grunted. Hill smiled wider, trying to show him exactly how amused she was. Steve rubbed his face with his giant hands. “Alright. I guess I can understand how you and Nat got together, since you knew each other through SHIELD. But how did you and Bucky…?”

  Hill tilted her head. They’d been together for quite some time in her mind, but because it was such a secret she’d never really explained it to anyone. Well, except for Eve, but even then there were details she’d left out. “After SPEAR was founded, Natasha and I… reconnected. We were together for a few weeks before Bucky sought her out. Nat?”

  “Bucky and I used to be lovers in the Red Room,” Natasha explained, picking up where Hill had left off. 

  Hill nodded. “It was a pretty simple transition. She and Bucky wanted to resume their romance, but Natasha didn’t want to leave me. So Bucky and I got to know each other, and I guess it worked.”

  “You guess?” Bucky mocked, and Natasha pinched him. 

  Steve looked uncomfortable. “Really? There was no jealously, no fighting?”

  Hill folded her hands on the table, tilting her head. “We’re adults, Rogers. What did you expect?”

  Natasha came over to Hill’s side, setting a bowl of oatmeal in front of her. It was the type that only needed to be mixed with hot water, and took about two seconds to make. Still, Hill looked at it like it was a decedent meal. “Oh my God, you  _ chef.”  _ She tugged Natasha down into a kiss, only to find that she’d recently eaten a blueberry. She shoved her back, muttering an “Ew”. Natasha just cackled. 

  “Is she trying to poison you again?” Bucky teased. 

  Steve looked confused, so Hill helpfully explained “Blueberries are disgusting.” That didn’t seem to help him understand. 

  Bucky and Natasha brought the other bowls over, along with the basic fixings, and sat down, with Bucky shoving Hill over on the bench so he could be in the middle. They were all sitting on the same side of the table, with only Steve on the other end. Hill couldn’t help being amused. 

  “I still have questions,” Steve requested. “Like, Buck, how long have you been okay? And how much do you actually remember?”

  Bucky groaned. “Why do you have to ask the hard questions? Why can’t you just ask us about the threesomes or something?” 

  Steve paled, eyes flickering to Natasha, and then to Hill. Hill smirked. 

  “It took a few weeks to get to a stable point,” Bucky conceded. “And I’m still recovering. But I remember most things. Enough.”

  Steve shook his head. “I have to bring you in. Both of you. Bucky, you’re still seen as a terrorist, you need to go on trial and clear your name. And Natasha, Clint—”

  “I know,” Natasha bit out, all of her earlier playful flirtation gone. “I understand the situation. But I did what I had to do, and my next move is my own choice, not yours.”

  “Mine too,” Bucky growled. “I’m not going on trial.”

  “If you don’t go on trial, you’ll stay a fugitive,” Steve threatened. “Both of you will.”

  Hill tilted her head. “It’s worked for them so far.”

  Steve looked at them individually, and apparently decided that he wasn’t going to get anywhere on that front. “Think about it. I’ll leave my contact info when I leave.” His eyes darted to Hill again, and his nose twitched in annoyance. Under the table, Bucky moved his hand to Hill’s thigh. 

  Steve and Natasha talked a little after that, and then Bucky joined in a little more, giving Steve a little more information. But finally, it was time for Steve to go, and after he said his goodbyes Hill walked with him out the door, closing it behind them. She turned to him, eyebrows lifted. “Rogers, if you have something to say to me, you’d better do it now.” 

  He shook his head, looking like he wanted to leave without another word, then apparently changed his mind. He straightened to his full height and turned to face Hill. “I just want to let you know that if you ever think about hurting either of them—”

  “Steven Grant Rogers,” Hill interrupted, aghast. “Are you giving me the shovel talk?”

  “You’re on the potential Hydra watchlist,” Steve hissed. “I have no reason to trust you.”

  “Bucky trusts me. Nat trusts me. Are you really saying their opinions mean nothing to you?”

  Steve bared his teeth. “That’s not— you were the deputy director of SHIELD. I trusted SHIELD.”

  Oh.  _ Oh.  _ “And then they betrayed you,” Hill finished, since Steve didn’t look like he was going to. It was a lot to take in, but she had to let Steve know the truth. “Steve, Hydra ruined everything for me too. You think I don’t feel guilty every day that I let the infestation happen?” She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not Hydra.”

  Steve met her eyes, holding her gaze. After a moment, he nodded. “Alright. I believe you.”

  
  


————————

  
  


  As Christmas neared, Hill found herself thinking about her family constantly. They clearly expected her to come this year, and if Hill was being honest, it didn’t sound like a horrible idea. Visiting for her dad’s birthday had been fun, in some twisted, pathetic way. Really, her family wasn’t that bad at all. 

  Another reason for the thought process was how frequently she was reminded of the holiday. Before leaving she had given her parents her newest phone number, and now they texted two to three times a week. They were casual enough, but Eve made sure the message was clear. 

_ Hey, I know you’re still undecided, but mom and dad REALLY want you to come.  _

_   Like, it’s getting annoying.  _

_   Please just say yes so they’ll stop moping.  _

__ Hill had all but made up her mind except for one thing: she didn’t want leave Natasha and Bucky alone for Christmas. 

  Then a text from her dad came in:

_ Hey kiddo, I know you are still deciding whether or not you can swing by for the holidays. I just wanted to let you know that you are certainly allowed to bring guests with you, if applicable. Love you, Dad. _

__ When Hill checked her phone, she was sitting at the kitchen table, her laptop open in front of her. Natasha and Bucky were on the couch, watching some horrific documentary about WW1 era spy planes. They sat so close she knew their thighs must be touching, and Bucky rested his head atop Natasha’s. In a random, candid moment, he pulled away just enough to press a kiss to the side of her head. 

  They were so weird, Hill thought miserably. All three of them. There’d be so many questions, and she’d have to tell her mom the truth, and Eve’s boyfriend might think it was weird. It also could be dangerous; Natasha and Bucky were still technically living below surveillance. Hill turned back around, and was immediately met with her laptop, the page pulled up to one of the SPEAR databases. There was really just too much to think about, too much to do. She had commitments. 

  “Hey,” Hill said, her throat dry, “How do you guys feel about spending Christmas with my parents?”

  On the couch, her lovers didn’t exactly stiffen, but they definitely sat up more. “Depends,” Natasha said. “Do they cook?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought! The next chapter will be the conclusion, and will be posted either tomorrow or over this weekend, sooner if people comment. Let me know if you have any requests for it!


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